Metaphorical Language
by Baylina
Summary: Though Gin is a man of many faces, few would have believed that an author was one of them. While taking sanctuary among humans, can he find a way to tell Rangiku that, beneath the façade, there really is a story to tell? - A jumble of mystery and fun.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This will be a series of chapters of varying size and styles. Not every chapter will be this long. On that note, everything will be connected, in some way or another, and there will be a plot. This is mostly a way for me to be creative. It's an idea that I've been playing with for a while now. Each chapter will be a part of the 500themes challenge on Livejournal.

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Words did not exist to convey Rangiku's relief when she had learned that, despite the gravity of his injuries, Gin was going to survive. Unohana had treated him on the spot, knowing that emergency medical attention was necessary, and then ordered him to the Fourth Division hospital. Rangiku had started to follow, believing her place was at his side, but the quiet spoken captain had stopped her.

"You require treatment as well."

Though her words were gentle, they expected immediate obedience.

Rangiku could only mumble a few half-hearted protests, glancing all the while at the retreating stretcher bearing her injured friend, before submitting herself to the care of her superior.

"Thank you," Rangiku could feel tears forming in her eyes, blurring them into an ocean of emotions, "for saving him."

Unohana paused in her examination, allowing a serious stare to meet the rippling blue eyes of her patient, "It is my job to heal the wounded." She glanced away, briefly taking in the rush of her comrades and subordinates as they worked to check the unconscious humans. "Friend or _foe_."

Rangiku felt the sting of the last word and she bit her lip, temporarily stilling the tears. "Gin's not our enemy. He tried to kill Aizen."

The captain shrugged, half-regretting the necessity of her next words. "He tried to kill a lot of others too. Inevitably, Gin will have to stand trial for his crimes."

Unohana was satisfied that Kira's previous administrations had not been entirely futile. Rangiku's physical wounds would heal with rest and time. But the other wounds—those renewed with every beat of the vice-captain's worried heart—would take longer.

"They will consider his final actions," Unohana offered with a slight smile of reassurance.

Rangiku, however, couldn't bring herself to meet the medic's eyes, knowing she would find there a vast array of pity contradicting her former statement.

There would be no consideration. Gin was a traitor in the eyes of Soul Society. And they would judge him accordingly.

Rangiku tightened her hand, allowing her fingernails to sink into the surface of her palm. A new resolution began to pervade and overcome her momentary helplessness. Something more primal and instinctual. She would protect him, this time. She would act on his behalf before Central 46 and defend him, even if it would cost her life.

With a new resolve, Rangiku met Unohana's stare. _Gin…I won't lose you a second time._ "No one will take him away again."

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><p>"Ohh?" Rangiku drawled, allowing her bottom lip to curve its way into an almost irresistible pout, "Why can't I see him?"<p>

The two guards at the door averted their eyes, "We're sorry, but orders are orders."

_Tough guys, huh?_ Rangiku allowed the pout to transform into a small triumphant smile. With a sweeping gesture, she nonchalantly found the best angle for displaying her cleavage and continued in her most alluring voice, "Not even for a minute?"

Their breathing had suddenly become much sharper. "What business do you have with him?"

_That's more like it._ Rangiku withdrew a folded sheet of paper from the folds of her clothes at her chest. "Just some paperwork for 10th Division. It's imperative that I fill it out before the end of the day." Fake tears began to form a glassy sheen in her eyes, "If I fail to finish, my Captain will scold me!"

"Now, now!" One of the guards stepped forward abruptly, taking her in his arms. "Don't cry!"

Rangiku looked down despairingly, as if the ground might hold all the answers. "I just can't _imagine_ what will happen if I don't finish this paperwork. I've always been so prudent and hardworking."

The guard had yet to release her and she felt him glance towards his partner; within a couple of seconds, they had cracked the door open. "Not too long, okay? Knock when you want to come out."

She gave them her most charming smile and deftly extracted herself from the grip of her comforter, "Of course."

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><p>"Gin, I—"<p>

Rangiku halted in mid-sentence as her eyes scanned the room and came to rest on the bed.

It was empty.

"Gin?"

She took a step forward as her mind began churning out thoughts like a machine in the process of working overtime. Gin wasn't there. If he wasn't there, then _where_ was he? She felt a sudden twinge of fear. Had Central 46 come to claim him for his trial? _No._ The guards were under the impression that he remained in the room.

Rangiku leaned against the wall and sunk to the floor. _Gin… you've left me again, haven't you? _

But she couldn't stay there. Not with the guards waiting outside the door. They would think that she had something to do with his escape. And Rangiku knew from experience that Gin left without a word in order to protect her from that sort of suspicion.

She took a deep breath and stood, preparing herself for the inevitable. _I hope you've gotten far enough. Wherever you're going._

Why did he always have to be so difficult? She would have helped him. She would have stood in his defense.

And now, to save herself from the scrutiny of the higher-ups, she would have to report him._ Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Gin!_

"Guards!" The door opened immediately and she forced her best-panicked expression. "He's gone!"

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><p>Yes. Yes, indeed, Gin was gone.<p>

But despite what she had originally thought, he _had_ actually left her a memento, a small slip of paper resting half-hidden in the folds of her bed. If the moonlight hadn't hit it just right, she would have completely overlooked it.

Rangiku read quickly, her heart in her throat all the while—pulsing with every word illuminated in the dark

"_If you were to turn into a snake tomorrow, and began devouring humans, and from the same mouth that you devoured humans, you cried out to me, "I love you!" Would I still be able to say "I love you," the same way that I do today?"_

As she read it a second time, her brow furrowed into something remotely resembling a frown. _A riddle?_ It seemed so personal—the question that he asked—but so impersonal as well. As if just by writing it, he was putting himself out there in the open, awaiting her judgment.

Yet, Gin had never been one to wait around for her response.

Upon closer inspection, she realized that he had also written something on the back.

"_Don't ever forget. I'm the Snake."_

Her grip tightened and she felt the paper begin to crease under the pressure. What did it all mean, in the end? What did he want her to do? She thought of the question he had posed. Would she be able to say "I love you" after everything that had happened—after witnessing the atrocities committed by his hand?

To this day, looking back on their history, Rangiku couldn't understand him. Perhaps, she realized, she never would. Because Gin traveled in a world of shadows, touched by a darkness that had never been a part of her own life.

She glanced up at the moon, regarding the way it curved into two distinct points. They seemed to direct her—two points, two directions, and two choices. One towards the heavens, the other towards hell. But what difference would it make in the end, this choice, if in the end she could not be with him?

_Would I still be able to say "I love you," the same way that I do today?_

A ghost of a smile found its way to her lips. Brief and exquisite. Love was not a word Gin voiced often—if ever. But in asking that question, he had answered her own.

_Of course, Gin. _

Some things would never change. Even after all this time, she could not turn from him.

_Even a snake must shed its skin, you know._

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><p>Rangiku watched haphazardly as the liquid in her sake cup spiraled in light ripples with every gentle turn of her fingers. The movement was absentminded, reflecting the nature of her thoughts; she wasn't even drinking it. It had become merely something to hold in her hand.<p>

It had started out as one of those days. One of those days where Gin pervaded every inch of her thoughts, leaving her without a reprieve.

A stack of untouched paperwork lingered perilously close, but she had made sure to sit just out of reach. Though she had to continue her duties, she couldn't help but mope. He had been there. So close. How was it that he always slipped through her fingers at the last minute?

She heard the door slide open, but didn't bother to glance up. Rukia's reiatsu filled the room as she entered, burdened with a stack of human magazines.

"You need to read this." She dropped them on to the desk with a thud, right where the paperwork should have been. "It's extremely well-known in the human world right now. It'll cheer you up."

Rangiku didn't move, "What is it?"

"A story by an anonymous author. There is a new chapter every week and it's already published in several languages!" Rukia was becoming more enthusiastic now. "It's so cute! There is this fox that meets a cat after wolves injure her in the woods. And he promises to protect her…" She paused for air, "Here, let me draw it for you!"

Rangiku didn't try to stop her. Instead, she allowed her eyes to fall once again upon the swirling within the cup. "I don't have time to read for pleasure. I can't even find time to read the paperwork."

"No one _finds_ time to read paperwork." Rukia countered, holding up a drawing simultaneously. "Look. This is the fox—Shin. And here," she held up a second drawing, this time with a cat, "is Hai."

Rangiku arched an eyebrow, failing to hide the sigh that followed, "Sounds like classic literature already."

For a brief moment, Rukia seemed put out by the vice-captain's strange behavior. Rangiku was not the type to have an attitude. At least not while she was sober. And, despite the large amount of liquor at her side, Rukia could tell that Rangiku was indeed _quite_ sober.

This didn't make much sense, once she began to think about it. Rangiku's love of alcohol was not a secret. And due to the events of Gin's most recent departure, Rukia was sure that Rangiku relied almost entirely on the sake for suppressing any stray thoughts of him.

"You don't _read _classic literature."

"For good reason. Hitsugaya-taichou gives me too much paperwork."

"I'll read a little bit of the first chapter." Rukia decided, grabbing the top magazine off the stack. "You need…something else to think about."

She opened it to the correct page and scanned the surface, "The story is called _Cache-Cache._ And—" She stopped briefly, upon realizing that Rangiku was laughing, "What?"

"What kind of name is that?" Rangiku felt mentally drained; the laughter came without a barrier, without censoring. It was like having a breakdown—like she was giving in to all the pain of loss. Of losing not just once, twice, but close to a third time. "_Cache-Cache_?"

Rukia grinned and nodded, "I figured you would ask, so I looked it up. It means Hide-and-Seek…in French."

Rangiku sobered up finally, feeling slightly intoxicated from nothing but the laughter alone. In some ways, it was liberating. "Why would he choose that title, I wonder?"

"Should I continue?"

Rangiku nodded, feeling obligated to indulge her friend. What harm could come of it? If anything, it spared her the thought of paperwork.

After a couple of seconds of searching, Rukia found her place, "Chapter One: Left Behind."

"_And so my story begins. I want to say that it began and ended in a far away land. Because it did. But those aren't the right words. Because it was so much more than that. So much more than beginnings and endings. So perhaps I should say that I want to start where I left off—on an unfinished page—in hopes that I can loop around to the real story and to a real end._

_Thus, I'll start with what I know. That my name is Shin. And I am a fox. Not just any fox, though. Possibly the most wanted in the entire world. Infamous. Loved. Hated. Respected. Feared. I have been all of those things and possibly more. I have had names: Shin the Traitor. Shin the Soul Reaper. Shin the Captain. I have led others into battle. I have killed the same men I have led. I have loved someone more than she knows. More than she can ever know. And I have betrayed her too._

_So perhaps, in the end, this is atonement for those crimes. For leaving everyone behind. For leaving her behind. For leaving in general._

_I started out alone. Foxes are always alone. We aren't like the wolves who travel in packs. We don't have flocks. Or herds. We prefer our wit, our manipulation. We prefer teasing and playing games because we like to win. But that only leads to a lonely life because no one wants to trust us. Perhaps it's wise because, in truth, no one ever knew with me—whether I was good or bad. Not my superiors, not my allies. And not even her…"_

"What do you think?" Rukia asked finally, searching Rangiku's features expectantly.

Rangiku finally took a sip of the sake, glancing mildly over the rim of her cup, "I can see why the author writes anonymously."

"It's not that bad!"

"Sounds like some kind of message that the rest of the world has managed to misconstrue."

"It's a romance," Rukia said simply, dropping the magazine back onto the stack. "I'll leave them here for you."

"Thanks."

Rukia made her way for the door, turning only once she was on the verge of the exit. "I think you'll find it more interesting than paperwork." And as the door shut behind her, she mumbled just loudly enough that the moping Vice-Captain could hear her through the screen, "Trust me."

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><p>Several moments passed after Rukia's departure and Rangiku had yet to move an inch. She was in a trance, searching for something to add up—without realizing just what she was adding. Her blue eyes took in the glossy surfaces of the magazines, analyzing how the light hit the sheen of the covers with just the right amount of appeal. Then, with even more reluctance, she allowed her stare to fall upon the paperwork just opposite them. The stack seemed to grow of its own accord and she barely managed not to cringe at the thought.<p>

If she had to spend her time in the 10th division office, she might as well do _something_ more amusing.

Slowly she reached out, taking the magazine Rukia had just replaced on the top. The cover was a collage of famous quotes by writers of different eras. It amazed her that, even after the lives of these humans had long since ceased to exist, a part of them still lived on through their words. They still touched the lives of the living, even after their deaths. It was fascinating, really. The way mankind managed to leave something behind.

Unlike… she shook the thought from her head, turning back to the cover. A "NEW WORK INSIDE" caption graced the bottom left corner in big red letters.

She opened the page to the critiques and acclaims, and began to read aloud:

"_Cache-Cache _is _the_ story to read. This chapter is heartfelt and engaging. An exploration of the human heart and the quest for redemption. A fine debut for an up and coming writer."

"If you don't yet know _Snake_, _Cache-Cache_'s secretive author, you will feel like you know him after reading Chapter One of this brilliant new story."

"You'd think this was a masterpiece," Rangiku murmured under her breath. "Some cocky guy writes some predictable, unoriginal romance under a silly name."

But then she paused as the math finally fell into place and everything clicked.

_Snake…_

"Don't forget. I'm the Snake." She quoted from the note Gin had left behind. A paper she had read so many times that the edges had started to fray from constant refolding.

Without waiting a second longer, she found the paragraph where Rukia had left off and began to read. After several moments, Rangiku stopped, incapable of continuing as a fresh wave of emotion nearly drove her to down the nearest sake bottle. _What the hell are you doing Gin?_

But she already knew.

Even if she couldn't always understand him, Rangiku still knew him the best. Gin was writing about her—to her—and telling her, in his own way, his version of their story. She had always been on the outside looking in; she had always been at his back, watching him walk away from her. But this time he was walking in the opposite direction. Gin was finally trying to close the gap—to smash down the dam and allow the waters to flow unhindered.

She turned her attention back to the story, determined to finish the chapter. Why couldn't he have told her all of this in person? Why all the metaphors?

_Because he __**can't**__ tell me in person. _

The rest of the chapter was mostly an introduction—an organization of place and time and emotions. But as she finished it, two things were wholly established. One: the feeling of loss was so obviously evident in Gin's heart as well. He wasn't hiding behind the squint of his eyes or that horridly fake grin anymore. Two: She _had _to find him.

After closer inspection, Rangiku got the impression that he was leaving clues for her. He wasn't going to tell the entirety of Soul Society where he was, assuming they discovered the metaphors. So he was going about it the hard way, relying on the force of human words—the love humans had for a good story—in hopes that they reached Soul Society.

At least, that was what Rangiku was hoping.

_He has no other reason to do this, _she reminded herself as she reached for a pen. And, in preparation for a long night, she poured herself a cup of sake in silent celebration.

Gin had always been an enigma and Rangiku had never much liked trying to solve him. But this time, _this time_, if she had any hope of finding him—of seeing him again—she was going to have to find the answer.

_This is the last time, Gin. _A genuine smile crept its way across her face, replacing her weariness with a renewed gleam. _I accept your challenge. _

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><p>Originally written for 500themes challenge. The prompt is <strong>13. Left behind<strong>.

Reviews are read with much appreciation. It's good to hear what you guys have to say.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Originally written for 500themes challenge. The prompt is **232. Mystery.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

"Why the human world?" Toushirou inquired skeptically as he leaned casually against his paper-cluttered desk.

Rangiku pouted, "I haven't seen Inoue or Ichigo in a while. I thought it might be nice to visit old friends."

"You haven't done the paperwork in over two weeks…"

"Because I can't focus!" Rangiku batted her eyelashes, trying her best to utilize her feminine wiles to her advantage. As her captain's façade darkened and his blue eyes narrowed, she knew the act was failing miserably.

Thus, she changed tactics.

"Please Captain!" She allowed her eyes to water, "I _need_ to get away from here for a while."

Toushirou seemed a bit disgruntled by her reaction and averted his eyes in contemplation. "How long do you plan to be gone?"

"I don't know," Rangiku admitted. "There is something I need to do."

This returned the suspicion to his eyes, "_Like?_"

His vice-captain shrugged, "Human stuff."

"_Human_ stuff?" Toushirou folded his arms and regarded her seriously, "What could you possibly—" He shook his head, exasperated by the sheer energy it took just trying to divine Rangiku's intentions. Even if she was up to something, she wouldn't share it willingly. "Fine, you can go, but—"

Before he could finish, she had enveloped him in her arms and he found himself with a face full of her breasts. "_Thank_ you!"

"Damn it!" Hitsugaya growled through the folds of her clothes as he tried to pry himself from her grasp, "Let go Matsumoto!"

As she charged out of the room to prepare for her vacation, Toushirou watched her go. Rangiku was normally mellow, except when she wanted something. But when she had a plan—a goal—everything changed. Not even he could stand in her way.

Toushirou sighed. _If only she had the same drive when it came to the paperwork._

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><p><em>Certain cats allegedly give bad luck when they cross your path, but when she crossed mine, everything changed for the better. I didn't know it then. I couldn't have known, maybe, because I had placed the entirety of my focus on protecting her. But she was like a beacon calling me home… like a rueful but expectant lighthouse at the edge of the shore, enshrined forever in a patch of clover.<em>

Rangiku sat in the airport, reading the latest addition of _Cache-Cache _for the seventh time that day. Her search for clues had led her nowhere and the frustration was ebbing off her in small waves that encouraged the crowd to leave her an abnormally wide amount of space.

_Lighthouses and clover. That's what you're giving me to work with Gin?_ She sighed, sinking further against the wall. How was she supposed to buy a ticket if she didn't know her destination? Granted that had only been the introduction, but the cutesy tale that had followed hadn't offered any promising clues.

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><p><em>Hai basked in the sunlight in the patch of weeds, unaware of the afternoon storm that I sensed approaching. Maybe she was always a little like that—a little spacey—but in truth, I think she just wanted to make the best out of the sunny moments that remained. <em>

_She sat up and regarded me curiously. "Shin?" Hai pointed to the ground next to her, "What do they call this plant?"_

"_Clover. It's actually a weed."_

"_Hmm…" She regarded it curiously, then plucked one delicately, "You'd think a weed would seem a bit more vicious."_

"_There is a legend about th' clover…" I knelt down next to her, taking the clover from her hand. "There are three leaves, ya see? They say th' first stands for faith." I plucked the first leaf and placed it in her palm. "The second is for hope. And th' third," I said, laying it atop the others, "is for love."_

_Hai gazed at the leaves in her hand and then blew against them gently, allowing them to disperse into the wind. After some consideration, she pulled another one from the ground and gasped with delight._

"_Shin, this one has four leaves!"_

_I smiled then, even though I often found forming a real smile to be difficult. "Ah, yes. The four-leaf clover is a symbol of good luck. They are rare."_

"_The fourth leaf means luck?"_

"_Apparently you're lucky."_

_With a smile, she placed it in my hand. "No," she disagreed, "we both are."_

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><p>The story tugged at Rangiku's mind—and her heart. It had been suspiciously close to the original. And though that memory had been long since buried and forgotten in Rangiku's busy day-to-day life, Gin had successfully pulled it from the dregs of her thoughts.<p>

But Gin's memory had always been phenomenal. His intelligence astounding. It was one of the reasons he had always succeeded in meeting his goals, no matter how long-winded or how far-away they seemed.

And it was that same intelligence that was causing her so many problems now. Rangiku had never tried to claim to be on his level in that regard. She had other traits that outranked him—the ability to feel and to act on emotions, for instance. Where Gin had been lacking, Rangiku had made up for it. And vice-versa. But now…now she was on her own, plunging into the depths of Gin's metaphorical psyche while hoping to resurface with all her synapses still intact.

Finally, Rangiku stood, determined to ask for some geographical help. She was at a disadvantage, scouring for places to which she had never been, without the help of someone who knew the human world a bit better than she did.

Tentatively, she approached the counter that read "Customer Service."

"Can I help you?" A young clerk behind the desk gave the confused woman a kind, but slightly distant smile. There was an accent in her Japanese, Rangiku noted curiously, but dismissed it as she began to realize that she had approached the counter for help, without having thought of what she wanted to ask.

"Maybe…" Rangiku replied, suddenly feeling very foolish. "It's just…well…it's going to sound kind of weird. Actually…" Her words trailed off and the woman's smile faltered. Finally, after a deep breath, she managed to spit out, "I don't know where I'm going…"

"Do you have somewhere that you would like to go?"

_Oh dear. _Rangiku didn't answer right away. She was staring blankly at the unfolded issue of _Cache-Cache._

"Somewhere with a lighthouse, apparently."

Rangiku could feel the woman keeping her patience in check. "Well," she began, forcing a smile, "there are plenty of beautiful countries with many lighthouses."

"That's the problem." Rangiku groaned, her lips turning into a distinctive pout as she nearly laid her head down on the counter in defeat.

"Belfast is a nice place."

"Belfast?" Rangiku asked, confused. "Where's that?"

The woman chuckled, "Sorry, it's just that I'm from Ireland. I couldn't help but notice the issue was written in Belfast."

Rangiku looked down and read the author's note in fine print: "The author would like to extend his thanks to his friends in Belfast without whom this issue would not be possible."

"Are there lighthouses in Belfast?" Rangiku asked, her curiosity suddenly peaked. _Why didn't I notice that before?_

"There are lighthouses everywhere in Ireland."

Rangiku suddenly felt ten times lighter. _Clue number one. Simple to find, but easy to overlook._ "Well then, I guess I'm taking the next flight to Ireland." She regarded the woman once again, relieved to see that she no longer seemed annoyed. "You have been a great help."

The woman grinned and waved her off, "No problem. Looks like all you needed was a little Irish luck."

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><p>AN: Can you figure out where Gin might have left his clue before the next chapter? Best of luck! (Speaking of luck…)

Reviews are read with appreciation, gratitude, and give me a great amount of inspiration to continue. Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This is part of Livejournal's 500themes Challenge. The prompt is **500. Useful Phrases. **I got to choose my own prompt and felt that this was suitable.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Upon arriving in Belfast, Rangiku quickly learned that her greatest problem was the language barrier. Her English was rudimentary at best. When she had stopped to ask for directions—displaying her best 'lost look' and angling her cleavage—the people had merely shaken their heads and shrugged their shoulders, giving her a kind of pitying smile.

_I should have brought that Customer Service worker,_ Rangiku mused rather unhappily. Once again, the encroaching feelings of defeat began to permeate her formerly hopeful spirits.

After some hours wandering around rather aimlessly, the lost Shinigami decided to at least _enjoy_ her time in the city. After all, this was a part of the world she had never seen before.

She slowed her steps and began to pay more attention to her surroundings, taking in the stylistically different architecture, the range of different looking people, and the way that the city seemed to combine a relatively interesting mixture of the old and the new.

It was quite fascinating really. Japan was modern in almost every aspect—with buildings that gripped the sky, automobiles, and technologically savvy everyday items—but Soul Society had remained relatively primitive by comparison. And this—the ever so foreign _western world_—was even more than she had imagined. She felt almost a pang of envy for Gin. He was getting a chance to experience the world—to see it through the eyes of a human. Though Rangiku was happy with her life in Soul Society, she had to admit—though she did it a bit begrudgingly—that this was kind of fun.

_And maybe that's why he's doing this after all. _

She rounded a corner, using her map as a faithful guide in hopes of finding the bus station, and barely managed to stop herself from running into the back of a broad-shouldered, loud-mouthed Irishman. Though she couldn't understand the words bellowing from his lips, she could see that they were gathering a large amount of spectators.

Rangiku quickly flipped through the pocket dictionary that she had bought in a small bookshop a few hours earlier—after the seventh hopeless shrug and hastily retreating Irishman had dashed her hopes into the ground—examining the "useful phrases" section, and then turned to one of the spectators on her right.

"Hello."

He looked at her, sizing her up, and smiled brightly, "Ah hello! What kin I do for ya missy?"

The majority of these words were lost on Rangiku and she felt herself shifting nervously from foot to foot.

"I look for a—" _Oh damn. What was that word again? _She felt her face grow hot as she flipped once more through the dictionary, stumbling through the pages as she imagined he must be growing impatient. _Lighthouse. That's right. Now how the hell do I say that?_ Rangiku inhaled deeply, repeating herself, "I look for a litu-hose."

She hazarded a glance at the man, waiting to see if she would once again receive the same pitying smile. However, he surprised her and burst into laughter instead—a jolly, rolling sound that spilled from his lips in unconcealed mirth. "I'm 'fraid there are a bunch of those."

The man paused, winking slyly, "Where are you from, miss?"

Rangiku heaved a sigh of relief upon finally understanding something, "Japan."

"Japan!" He cried aloud, "You don't say?"

She gave a small smile, shaking her head.

"So why are ya lookin' for a lighthouse?"

Rangiku frowned, her brow furrowing in concentration, "Pardon?"

"Why-are-you-lookin'-for-a-lighthouse?"

She wasn't sure that she had understood him correctly, or at all for that matter, but Rangiku didn't want to miss her chance to find the answer to the riddle. She wasn't banking much hope on this particular man to solve it, but at the very least, maybe he could point her towards someone who could. Holding up a finger to ask him to wait, she began to dig through her bag, pulling out her copy of _Cache-Cache._ She knew he wouldn't be capable of reading it—it was in Japanese after all—but maybe he would recognize it.

Her hopes were answered as a light of recognition twinkled in the blue of his eyes—like a star on a dark night that could guide the way.

"Ah, that story," he said with a gentle smile, pulling an English version from his own bag, "my wife loves it. I just bought her the copy today!"

Rangiku didn't know what he had said, but at the very least, he had heard of it.

"Clue," she said after finding the word in her dictionary. _Now how to make it plural…_ It was a crying shame that she hadn't studied some English grammar on the plane. After two flight changes and several hours of layover time, she had had ample time to learn a bit of English. "There…are… clue-s."

This time the man seemed a bit confused, "Clues? In the story?"

Rangiku nodded.

"For what?"

She blushed, "Clues for me." She pointed to the author's note. "Writes in Belfast. I come to Belfast."

"You know the writer?"

"Writer?"

The man pointed at the name "Snake" in the magazine. "You know him?"

Rangiku gave a small smile and nodded again. "Good friend."

"Oho!" He gave a loud laugh that nearly sounded like a roar, "So you have an admirer! Well, I won't stand in the way of love!" Before she could back away, he put his arm around her shoulder and began steering her through the crowd. "Come on miss, I know a place that might have someone who can help you."

"We go where?" Rangiku asked, pretending not to notice his arm.

"Queen's University."

"Daigaku?"

"If that means university, then yes."

_A university? But why a—_ And then it dawned on her. At a university, someone was bound to speak Japanese. _What a great idea!_

"By the way," the man began again, "what's your name miss?"

Rangiku caught the word 'name' and looked at him quizzically, then repeated for clarification, "My name?"

He gave her an encouraging nod and she couldn't help but smile, "Rangiku."

"Rangiku. A very lovely name indeed," he winked. "Call me Ben."

"Ben." She repeated, committing it to memory. _Hajimemashite._ _What was that again? _She thought about one of the first phrases in her dictionary. _Ah, right_. "Nice—nice to meet you."

It was amazing how much that little dictionary had done for her. A few simple words and a little bit of grammar went a long way. Before she had been like a lost sheep wandering the streets without a shepherd. Now she had found her shepherd—even if he was a bit loud and a bit strange.

For the first time all day, Rangiku felt like she was a little closer to Gin.

_Well, _she thought, her heart strangely light, _that about sums up_ _learning experience number one:_

_Learn some useful phrases!_

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><p>I feel particularly akin to Rangiku in this chapter. I most certainly feel her pain. You should have seen me trying to buy minutes for my phone here in Estonia when I first arrived. It was like playing charades.<p>

To answer **Twinklefeather**'s question: I reread that chapter to see if I could remember. Put simply, I don't really. But I have a hunch it was going to be something like: you have 'this much time' before I expect you back to do the paperwork!

The next chapter will be out soon (I've already written it). Reviews are read with the utmost gratitude. I am a hungry author. Please feed the hungry author with kind words and constructive criticism!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I've never actually _been_ to Belfast. Much less to Queen's. The following chapter is a product of my own imagination with the help of a few pictures. If you are Irish/student at Queen's/resident of Belfast, by all means, do correct me if something needs serious correcting. Otherwise, enjoy!

This is for the 500themes challenge on Livejournal. The prompt is: **185. Seek and find.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

_Their students study in a _palace_? _Rangiku wondered as she stood before the main building, gaping. Ben was a few meters ahead and stopped upon realizing that his new charge had ceased to follow him. Glancing behind, he caught her stare, "I was too intimidated to ever come here."

Students were everywhere within the vicinity, hurrying to class or standing around idly during their breaks. Watching them made Rangiku a bit nostalgic. She and Gin had technically studied together—even if he had graduated long before she did. He had even helped her a bit, giving her tips for executing quicker and more efficient Kidou spells. And occasionally he had been her sparring partner.

_He always went easy on me._

"This way," Ben finally said, forcing her to push the nostalgia to the back of her mind.

With one last glance around, Rangiku did as she was asked and followed her guide into the building. The inside was similarly impressive with large halls and old staircases, low hanging chandeliers and beautiful glass windows. Light filtered through, setting the entire place aglow like an enchanted castle. Rangiku felt like turning circles to take it all in and wondered, briefly, if all of her journey would be like this. Filled with new discoveries.

It was almost as if Gin was giving her a chance to rediscover herself. She smirked, briefly closing her eyes in thought, _Hmph, you cunning bastard…_

"Wait here," Ben instructed, holding up a hand to emphasize his point, "I need to ask someone for directions."

Rangiku was only too happy to oblige. The extra time provided an opportunity to observe her surroundings more thoroughly. On one of the walls, she noticed a series of portraits, and she found herself ambling over to observe the stoic and stern faces of former schoolmasters. _They look like they could have used a few drinks, _she mused. _In fact… I think I could use a few myself. _

She mentally made a note to ask Ben about the pubs. She had heard rumors that the Irish were quite the merry drinkers—and quite good at it too.

Ben's footsteps woke her from her reverie and she turned to acknowledge him. With a motion of his hand, he strode off down one of the halls, carefully studying the room numbers as he passed them. Finally, several halls and staircases later, he stopped at a plain wooden door and knocked politely.

A middle-aged woman opened the door, her black hair pulled back in a sharp bun and her eyes as kind as a jagged rock; she smiled formally and without warmth, "May I help you? My office hours aren't for another two hours."

"I have a young woman here who doesn't speak much English. She's searching for someone. They told me that you could help."

Rangiku listened to the conversation, straining to pick up familiar words, but gave up halfway through. It was just too fast. Luckily, it didn't last long. After meeting a curious glance from the professor, they were invited to enter her office.

The office was much smaller than Rangiku expected, though she figured this was largely due to the overwhelming amount of books—in both English _and_ Japanese—crammed into almost every visible corner. There were hundreds of them—lining bookshelves, stacked on the floor—and Rangiku half expected to see books hanging from the ceiling. She tried her best not to make an obvious glance in that direction.

The woman's desk was cluttered with paper, where she had been working on who-knows-what, and signs of a rather hasty meal. In the front were several mugs, each holding several pens, and a nameplate on which her name was inscribed in fine italics: _Sarah Hogan_.

"Please, sit down," the professor encouraged, waving her hand in the direction of two green velvet cushioned seats. Rangiku obeyed, hardly registering the fact that the woman had said it in Japanese.

"I am Professor Hogan, the Japanese instructor here." She said it in both languages, giving them hard, discerning glances, before switching entirely into fluent Japanese; her attention now rested fully on the Shinigami, a look of expectation settling permanently in the depths of her rather disconcerting gaze, "He has informed me about your search for a friend. I don't know that I'll be of real assistance. Perhaps the police would be a better bet?"

_This woman needs some drinks too…_ Rangiku thought idly, Professor Hogan's unwelcoming demeanor hardly fazing her.

"The police?" She couldn't help but chuckle, "Oh dear, I'm afraid I'll have to share the entire story with you. You see, the police can't help me. The person I'm looking for is no longer _in _Belfast."

"Then why are you here at all?"

_She's absolutely _no_ fun._ Rangiku grabbed her copy of _Cache-Cache _and tossed it haphazardly onto the desk, ignoring as it rearranged some of the paperwork. No one needed paperwork after all. "I'm looking for the writer of this story."

"This garbage?" The professor mumbled under her breath as she straightened the papers, "It's decreasing the IQs of my students."

Rangiku wasn't the least bit insulted. After all, hadn't she thought the story was mediocre after having read it the first day? She couldn't recall immediately what had gone through her mind, but she remembered thinking it had gotten way more attention than it deserved.

"Oh, now _Professor_," Rangiku said, donning her best smile, "it's not _all_ garbage."

Professor Hogan wasn't the least bit amused, "Continue with your story. I don't have all day."

"The writer—Snake—is placing clues in the story for me. I don't know where they lead—or what I'll find when I get to the places, but I _have_ to figure this out."

"You came all the way to Belfast because you think there are _clues_ in a story?" The professor looked slightly abhorred at the mere thought, "What a waste of time!"

Rangiku blinked once, never losing her smile, "Oh, believe me, I have all the time in the world."

"Well, some of us don't."

"Have you read this addition?"

Professor Hogan arched a brow, the mere angle of it making her face five times more stern, "What do you think?"

"Then the quicker you read it, the quicker I'll be out of your hair."

For a moment the professor sat in stunned silence. This woman really expected her to _read_ it? As Rangiku leaned back patiently in the chair, her light blue eyes remaining steadfastly observant, Professor Hogan knew she was serious.

"What am I supposed to be looking for?" The professor finally asked, defeated.

"Anything that might lead to a specific place in Belfast. I think it's a lighthouse."

"And you seriously think that he will be waiting at this lighthouse?"

Rangiku sighed, "No, I doubt he'll be there. That would be too easy. And Gi—Snake—is not the kind of person that would make this easy." She paused with the first signs of doubt, "But surely _something_ will be there. This is his game."

Ben asked a question that was lost to Rangiku and Professor Hogan responded quickly, reaching simultaneously for the Japanese version of _Cache-Cache_ as if it might burn her. The Irishman laughed loudly, grinning from ear to ear.

"What did he ask?" Rangiku quizzed.

"Whether or not I'd be able to help you."

"And what did you say?"

Professor Hogan gave the Shinigami a hard stare, "That I'm a Japanese instructor. Not a teacher of the disillusioned."

But even as she said it, the professor opened the magazine to the right page and started reading with only the slightest grimace.

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><p>Fifteen minutes passed and Professor Hogan said nothing, leaving Rangiku to stare idly at the room. She found herself searching the spines of books for familiar titles, wondering vaguely how one woman could acquire so <em>many<em>. When that grew boring, she looked towards the window, allowing her thoughts to venture into old daydreams.

Finally, after another five minutes had passed, Professor Hogan began to type something on her computer, drawing Rangiku's attention back to her stern face. When she found whatever she had been searching for, the professor cleared her throat, "The majority of it was completely irrelevant."

Rangiku tried to hide her disappointment, "Oh."

"However, I read over the introduction twice and I think something is a bit interesting, if one is reading it with the idea of clues in the back of her mind." She handed Rangiku her copy and pointed to the first part of the story, "Read that carefully and tell me what you think."

Rangiku had already read it several times, but she decided another time wouldn't hurt. Her eyes followed the thin, bony finger to the first line, and she began to read out loud:

_Certain cats allegedly give bad luck when they cross your path, but when she crossed mine, everything changed for the better. I didn't know it then. I couldn't have known, maybe, because I had placed the entirety of my focus on protecting her. But she was like a beacon calling me home… like a rueful but expectant lighthouse at the edge of the shore, enshrined forever in a patch of clover._

"The last line is the only one that mentions the lighthouse," Professor Hogan said with the barest hint of excitement. "You see, he used the word 'beacon'. A beacon generally calls a person towards it—whether it is a sound or a light."

"But I already figured I had to find a lighthouse," Rangiku shrugged, her hope beginning to diminish.

"Yes and you were correct," Professor Hogan leaned forward, examining the magazine from the opposite direction. "But keep reading that line."

The Shinigami obeyed half-heartedly, "…like a rueful but expectant lighthouse at the edge of the shore…"

"Your friend is actually quite clever. His writing may not be on par with the greats, but he has a distinct command of subtlety."

_Subtlety?_ Rangiku knew that was something she had never had. She reread the line a third time, "So what are you saying?"

"The key here is the word 'rueful'."

"Rueful?"

The professor nodded enthusiastically as only someone who loved to read and make connections in literature _would _do. If she had been hesitant before, Professor Hogan was now completely enthralled by the tactfully written message within seemingly otherwise useless writing. It was ingenious!

"I just ran a search online. There is a lighthouse in Northern Ireland called the Rue Point Lighthouse. It's in Ballycastle." She paused to turn the computer screen in Rangiku's direction, "Here, look."

And there it was—the clue. A beautiful photo of a black and white circular lighthouse nestled at the edge of the sea. Rangiku knew instantly that this was the answer. "Amazing," she said with genuine warmth, "you're amazing!"

Professor Hogan flushed a bit at the praise, but brushed it off as delicately as she could, "I studied literature as well as language. We're taught to read in between the lines."

"It's not really surrounded by clover," Rangiku noted, remembering the final words in the introduction paragraph and comparing them to the rocks in the picture.

For the first time since the Shinigami had entered her office, Professor Hogan laughed, "In the literary world, one would call that taking some literary license—meaning not everything has to be true."

Rangiku smiled, only to remember that Ben was in the room, "Could you tell him that you found the answer?"

Upon hearing this, Ben grinned, "This calls for drinks."

The Shinigami nodded in agreement, needing no translation for _that_ suggestion; when it came to alcohol, there was no language barrier. Especially not where she was concerned.

"What do you say Professor?" Rangiku asked with a sly wink, "I've been meaning to see how well the Irish can hold their liquor."

"Oh, no. Not me." Professor Hogan replied, her voice like a whip.

But Rangiku didn't appear to hear her. She cheerily took one of the loose sheets of paper from the desk, not even bothering to check if it was important, grabbed one of the pens from a cup, and began to write in neat Japanese characters:

_Gone drinking. If important, please leave a note._

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><p>I went ahead and published this chapter earlier than planned. Tomorrow is a three hour lecture with the worst professor of Estonian ever born. Please help cheer me up by leaving reviews. I assure you that they will make my day.<em> :)<br>_


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